


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - There is no happy end

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [30]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, Colepaldi, F/M, Friendship, RPF, Romance, Suppressed Feelings, complicated feelings, lot of angst, people told me they cried, there is a chance you need some tissues here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:37:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3106160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a deeper meaning when Peter looks at Jenna. She figures out, that she needs to know if they mean what she think they mean. She confronts him and they get into an argument about feelings, their friendship and the possibility of Jenna's staying or leaving. Will be a two parter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 30th Colepaldi RPF and I wanted to write something huge and I also wanted to full fill some prompts I got, so I wrote this angsty piece of angst. There will be a second part, I haven't written yet, so I can't say if the title will be program. Please be warned, it is a sensitive topic and full of angst and arguments about feelings and consequences.  
> Don't read if you don't like RPF. My native is not English, thanks for the read anyway!

Jenna stood in front of Peter’s trailer unable to knock at the door and also unable to turn away to leave. After a few minutes she pressed her outstretched arm against the door, head down, scolding herself. She hadn’t realized, that her hand had made a dull sound when she had touched the surface - only when the trailer door swung wide open and Peter appeared.

“Hey!” Peter looked at her in surprise.

 

Startled, she stared a moment at him, unsure what expression she should give her face, then she decided for a smile that she knew looked more forced than happy and more sad than willingly.

 

Peter’s forehead got covered with soft wrinkles when he caught her expression. He sensed that there was something wrong.  "You alright? What is it?"

 

"Can I come in maybe?" she asked, her feet heavy, her chest struggling for a deep breath.

 

"Of course," he stepped back and let her in.

Jenna closed the door behind her, slowly, still working on the words she wanted to say, still working around the reason that had urged her to come here.

 

Peter had walked to the little kitchen counter, "I was just about to make some tea. Do you want one?"

 

"Yes," and quickly rose her hand, "I mean no. No, I..., listen… ."

Why did words always fail when they were most needed? Peter stopped in his doings, feeling he shouldn't be distracted, feeling he needed to be here, in the moment - with her.

"Can we talk about something? "

 

"Sure, you know we can talk about everything. What is it?"

 

Jenna's fingertips trailed over the surface of the table by her side, catching sight of the trailer wall behind Peter, covered in some pictures from fans and from the World Tour. There was one with her too.

 

He saw her seeing the pictures, so he turned around, but she stopped him. "When we... when we filmed the sleigh scenes...", for some reasons she hoped he would read her mind, what of course was not possible for him. Not the strongest bond could made that possible.

 

"Yes?"

  


The words were there, but her mouth was for a long moment unable to speak them out. It was like a blockade and she had to come up with all the force and will that was in her to make them come out.  "The way you look at me..."

 

Peter swallowed, "The way I look at you? How... how do I look at you?"

 

The dialogue had worked perfectly in her trailer, and now the words melted away under her try to speak them out to him. Unable to read the mental script she had made, like a pen written paper in the rain. The words simply washed away.

 

Maybe she should have followed her first Impulse of drinking a glass of liqueur, to loosen her tongue.  "Please stop," she knew she just had skipped a whole paragraph in her script.

 

Peter leaned against the counter trying to understand what she wanted to express. His right hand rubbed the fingertips of his left, "I am sure there is something more between _"the way I look at you"_ and _"just stop"_. So...," he smiled gently, hoping he could ease her nervousness.

 

"There is a certain way you look at me, not only in this special scene," she finally managed to face him longer than just a few seconds. "You look at me like this, when you think I don't see it, and I don't mean when I look away, I mean you look me in the eye, and think I don't see this," her hands tried to form the air around her. "This look of yours."

 

After ending her sentence she didn't dare to take her eyes of him, needed to take in all his moves, his betraying behaviour - in case there was one. There was. He froze for only a second with kneading his fingers, before he shoved both his hands into his pockets. Jenna didn’t need more, she saw right through him and knew she wasn't mistaken in her believes.

 

"Okay," every word was now possibly one word too much. One offering too much. A disclosure - impossible to revoke.

 

"Is this all you're gonna say? ... Okay?" she sensed that the tables turned - very slowly.

 

"You came here to tell me I should stop looking in a certain way at you, and I guess the only thing I can say is yes or okay. I went for okay, " he smirked but knew it was a mistake to try it with.

 

"Such simple?"

 

Peter kept quiet, pressing his lips together, feeling a hard pressure there where his stomach was. A pain that built up there. A twitch with her eyebrow challenged him to speak, "What do you expect me to say?"

 

"Tell me I am wrong," she stared down to the floor. "Tell me this looks of yours don't mean anything."

 

His hands had became fists in the inside of his pockets, "Do you want me to lie?"

 

It was all she needed to light the little spark inside of her into an uncontrollable blaze. "Could you? Lie?"

 

His hands found the way back into sight, "I wouldn't want to. I don't want to lie to you."

 

"You started talking about lying."

 

"Jenna, I... what is it you want from me right now, because I can't follow."

 

"And yet, I think you can," she said quickly, remembering this one line from the script, foreseeing this reaction from him and it gave her confidence.

 

He needed to exhale loudly, needed his hands to do something. Needed his body get rid of the tensions that had built up constantly since they had started touching a lingering topic that hung over their heads since month. Almost violently he ruffled his hair, brushed the cold inside of his hands over his face - he needed this split of a second to hide his face from her.

Instead of finding words that would make everything better again, his mind asked in panic why his hands were so cold. He never had cold hands, so why now? Because he was afraid. A part of him was afraid of things to come, and that scared him even more.

 

"Please!" he called.

 

"Please, what, Peter?" she answered in the same tone.

 

"Please don't go this way, Jenna," he was even so far to go on his knees for it so much in fear he was, so far he could feel the dark shadows over their heads. This talk would have its consequences,  that was for sure.

 

"What if I have to?" The way she spoke the words let him knew, it was not a hypothetical question. His eyes pierced at her, warning her, like the Doctor once had warned his beloved companion by the vulcano. "I need to know." 

 

Had he misheard it? Was she pleading?

"Need to know what?”

 

"If I am right. If these looks mean what I think they mean," she went on, more silent, more sad. Aware there was only one way this road could go for her now - and so for him.

She would take him with her, into the abyss, into the uninvedible. At the end of this, at least one of them would lay on the ground beaten. She would take care of it, she knew, and she didn't give a damn. She needed to know, at whatever cost.

 

"It sounds, you already have an opinion on this, so why don't you take it as granted?" he asked, feeling her fury. He knew there was not much that could stop her. He knew her all too well.

 

"And spare us this discussion?" she shook her head. "Too late."

 

"Why?"

 

She eyed him long, gave him time, gave him torture, "You know why. Because I'm leaving."

 

"What?" he called out. A confession like a bullet.

 

"I'm not going to stay for another season," was she wrong, hadn't he no assumption? "I guessed you assumed already."

 

"No!” his hand shot up toward her, as if he wanted to take her. Touching the verity, that now stood between her and him, to see if it was real. “If anything!" he turned away, grabbing for the counter, his legs weren’t able to support his body for a moment.

 

Jenna gasped, also turning away. Giving in to the feeling to run away, but only for a moment. This turn of events were clearly not on the list. A plan ruined. "Then I don't understand."

 

Peter frowned, turning his head toward her, "What do you don't understand?"

 

"The looks you give me. I know they started month ago, only subtle and became stronger week by week that we came closer to this special," she had turned half back to him, but was talking more to the window of the trailer, hands on the table, shadowing his position at the kitchen counter. "I... I thought it was because you knew I would leave. I couldn't explain it other than this to me."

 

They faced each other. Realizing many misunderstandings.

 

"Till right now, I never had any doubt that you would stay," there was a world, unseen, in front of him, shattered into uncountable pieces. The part of his body that had hurt earlier, was now numb.

 

Jenna regained what was left of her courage, and turned toward him, "I'll tell Steven tomorrow morning that I'll not stay another season."

 

Peter glanced out of the little window, hearing her words, but not understanding them yet. His fingers pressed hard into the wooden counter, till his knuckles went white and a feeling was no more existent. "Okay."

 

"Don't just say ' _okay'_!" She called out.

 

Something snapped inside him, "What do you want me to say?" His tone frightened him, and he flinched away from his own force, away from the rupture that made its way through his body. "Because I am pretty sure you came here with words you wanted to hear. You came here with a plan, and instead letting me disappoint you, you could be so fair to simply tell me what you want to hear."

 

A smile flickered over her face, while her eyes seemed already dead. "I could place the words on your tongue, and place a pistol at your temple, and I bet my own life you still would deny me them."

 

He huffed, at the same time impressed and hurt, "What poetic words."

 

"I deserve better," she scolded his cynicism.

 

There was no reason to think about this, "Of course you do! That's why you will not hear the explanations you came here for."

 

Jenna was well aware that this was maybe the closest thing to a disclosure she would ever get. "What exactly do you mean?"

 

"You deserve better than this," there was a sadness in his voice, while he pointed at himself, that not often infested him. Peter looked at Jenna, how she kneaded her thumbs, and a bit of the sleeve of her jumper. He bit the inside of his cheeks and hoped he would wake up out of this nightmare. His head tilted slightly and his eyes tried to tell her what his mouth couldn't.

 

"Stop it!" she dared to take one step closer, and lost her confidence immediately. "Stop...stop looking at me like this!"

 

His eyes trailed away for a moment but found its way back to her, resting fixed on her - but soft. "Does it make a difference now? With one week left in my company?"

 

The truth was, she damned him in her mind but cursed herself even more. Stupid, stupid Jenna, what did you think of coming here? "Go to hell!"

 

He took her words and walked up to her, till there was only half a meter between them, "Don't you think I haven't considered doing this already?"

 

Her head shot up, and she locked eyes with him. “Then say it!”

 

“Say what?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“And you know; I can’t say it," he saw she was tired of his excuses, and that she saw that he was tired of them himself. But even with all the force in the world, he couldn't say it. He had made a promise and he wouldn’t break it.

Also he could understand her, and it was only him to blame for her misery. His amount was the greatest and he hadn't played fair since their situation had happened. He knew his fault.  "Does it really need saying?”

 

“Yes, it does!”

 

He foresaw her answer, “No, it does not! You just want to hear it, because you want to control it, you think you can control it better then, because you are actually a control freak!”

 

For a moment she forgot her sadness and snapped back at him “That's not true!”

 

“We both know it is,” he pointed a finger out, and made a grimace.   

 

“Don’t divert from the actual topic!”

 

Peter felt defeated. Not by Jenna, more by life. Shoving both his hands again through his hair he needed to breath in and out for a moment to find some assurance again. His head was dizzy and his emotion in turmoil and he needed to find words to please her and also to please him. All this was so exhausting, the long month of double meanings and suppressed feelings.

He saw the defeat too - this battle would not have a winner. After two minutes he managed to say in his calmest voice, “Jenna, I.. I can’t say it.”

 

The disappointment that washed over her seemed graspable. “You just-”

 

“-No! Just no, whatever you wanted to say right now, just no. This is one thing - this one thing you don’t know, because no one can know so much. I don’t say it, because I don’t want to. I don’t say it because it would make everything worse,” when his accent was the thickest, Jenna knew he was close to the edge of breaking down - of giving up.

 

“It's there, I am not blind! I see how you look at me and don’t tell me, you just a fucking great actor,” it made him actually smirk a bit. “I am not stupid, Peter!”

 

“I never said that,” he stepped again closer, wanting to touch her but he knew she wouldn’t let him. “You are not blind. You see right through me, and this is scary as hell for me.”

 

“What are you saying then?” she pressed for it.

 

He turned around, and walked to the back of the trailer, battling if he should say what he wanted to say. “It doesn’t need saying,” he came back to her. “You know.”

 

“So it’s a bad thing, to want to hear something from someone you care about? Something you know you both feel, but then there is just denial.”

 

“What do you expect me to do? And I am not talking about admitting things, because frankly I am beyond admitting - believe me.”

 

“Why you don’t admit it out loud, then?”

 

He pressed two of his fingers so hard against each other that he was afraid for a moment he would break them. “Fine. I tell you why. I phrase it a bit different, so you will finally understand me.”

 

She frowned, unsure what to expect, “Alright.”

 

He let go of his fingers, “You will not like it.”

 

“I make this decision for myself, I think.”

 

“You most certainly do.”

 

“Go on then.”

 

“What you want to hear is that I care, too much, too long, too far, too deep for certain things. And I could speak on and on, making a point, spread out my soul and … my heart, and make promises which would turn out to be … wrong. I can do all that, for hours. You know why I can? Because I did it already in my mind, in my trailer, in my apartment. I spilled myself out and woke up in the morning - full again,” he rose one finger to his lips. “Because there is one thing, one tiny little thing, you have not considered.”

 

“What?”

 

“That there will be always an _‘however’_.”

 

Jenna knew of course what he meant, “How could there be an however? One week.. I'm gone! What regrets could you have? I am not expecting deeds, I ... I only want words. What can words do to you, what feelings haven't done yet?"

 

He wanted to tell her, that the answer was _'everything'_ , but for what cost? The only thing that was left was hurting her even more and _that_ he didn't wanted to do. They not only ran out of time, they also ran out of words and the silence in the trailer was louder as their screaming souls buried under thousands layers of denial.

 

 _'Fuck!'_ he yelled under a mask of nothingness. And then it hit him. "Wait..." he backed away slightly, waving with his hands in the air. "You said, you tell Steven in the morning."

 

Jenna was confused,  "Yes."

 

"Why tomorrow?  Why not today? Why come here today, and not tomorrow?"

 

"Because...I .. tomorrow is the deadline he gave me and so-"

 

"-no," he whirled around, feeling almost cheerful, feeling a chance rise and also a drama. "Is it that?"

 

"I... what?"

 

He leaned forward, "Are you here because you want me to change your mind? Do you want me to stop you?"

 

Jenna didn’t answer, instead everything inside her slowly collapsed.

 

When they had first met, they both had sensed the chemistry between them. While the read through not only them had realized that it just had clicked between them. Steven had placed them in a room with a spark and hadn't known, that he had set both of his lead actors not only on fire with it, no he had accomplished what not many people could, he had created a wildfire with no possibility of extinguish it. He had provoked a storm.

 

There was not only harmony between them, there was sympathy, friendship and a deep understanding. Quickly she felt close to him, felt safe in his presence and happy. He made her laugh and he took care of her and asked her for her opinion. They shared most of the time on set together, and when they were off set, and not sleeping, they spend the rare times of conciseness and off time with dinner or chats over a coffee. Philosophical chats. They created a bond step by step, not only strong but close.

So very, very close.

 

It was one of these rare moments when the head knows before the heart. When she had turned around one evening and he was gone, for dinner, or whatever, there, when she had asked herself where he had gone. There when she had missed him, her head knew something it couldn't process - not without the heart, and when the heart realized its fall, it was too late.

 

She suppressed all the feelings, knowing they couldn't lead anywhere, till she recognised his looks. She needed a while, thought it was her imagination, her fault. Till the day they filmed _"Mummy on the Orient Express"_  .

The look he had given her - the one he should have acted to give her - while they filmed the _"last hurray"_ scene was the same he gave her when he thought she was not looking. There she had perceived, that these looks with sad eyes, the silent stare of his, obviously meant more than just _"sorry, was lost in thought"_ as he had told her once when she had stared back long enough to feel her stomach filling up with butterflies.  

 

After this discovery, she had to sit down in her trailer and her heart had floated her mind with all the strange (compelling) moments with him, when she had scolded herself and her _‘gone wild’_ imagination.

The moments in silence in the tardis. His eyes in the dim light, the flicker of too much attention he gave her. The smiles she on day found where a bit too sad, and the little flinches he did when she touched him - of which she always thought it was an in-character thing. Now, in retroperspective, so many moments changed from meaningless to world shattering.

 

Peter was not the person who got washed away by his emotions and feelings in public, he was able to act normal around her - playing the pal, her friend, and cheerful co-actor. He gave interviews in her presence about the fantastic show, about his fantastic co-star, about the fantastic fans and his fantastic family.

 

It was not as if it would have been easy to see or to believe, and after _MOTOE_ she had needed to make long and careful observations to come to an conviction that her impression was correct.

And when Steven had told her he would need a decision about her staying or leaving, she had dwelled on the intention of asking Peter about his glances, till the almost last moment.

 

"Jenna?" Peter asked after she didn't answer and seemed so far away, that not even a Tardis would had been able to bring her back.

 

She looked down to the floor, somewhere between the tip of his shoes and the horrible grey pattern of the floor. Her voice was soft, hurt and filled up with defeat, "Would it make a difference?"

 

Would it? Could he stop her, when the only reason that would stop her would be his admittance?

 

Jenna smiled in bitter realisation.  "See? You can say so many things, without meaning anything. How sad is that, Peter? And how even sadder is it to say so less, and mean everything with it? Words are funny, aren't they?"

 

"Words have meanings, words can do things to you and to others, Jenna," he held up a finger, pointing into one of the four cardinal directions,  probably the one of London Jenna guessed.

 

She couldn't hide a sarcastic chuckle, "Do you think so little of me, that you believe I don't know? Do you really think I would take your admittance and take it against you? How stupid do you think I am?" there was sudden anger. "Don't you think, I don't know where your heart lies?" she thought about this, and saw how he battled with the last sentence too. "Where the most of it lies," she added. She had said it more for herself, but she could see that the lines in his face had eased too.

 

Peter was now stumped, he didn’t know what to do or what to say anymore. He felt angry inside, “Don’t you see what your.. stubbornness does?” He knew immediately, that this was something he had better not said out loud.

 

“So is this my fault now?” she walked up to him, glaring. She was now a thunderstorm. Her eyes had become watery. Any minute now she was about to cry.

 

He leaned back a bit, offering her a white flag, “I think we both have to take some blame for this.”

 

“Yeah?” she wouldn’t take it, she came here for a win or for a loss, but not for an in between. “So, I should apologize for having a heart, for having feelings? For.. oh for fuck sake! Don’t you see?” and there the first salty drops ran down her cheek.

 

It broke Peter’s heart, well the part of it, that wasn’t broken yet. He didn’t know what to say. His hands swayed around in the air, begging her to come back to him, back to the point before they had ruined this friendship.

 

Nothing more it was what Jenna wanted, throwing herself into his arms, crying herself out till there was no more single tear inside of her. Though, decisions were made. She just couldn’t do as if there was nothing, as if it was okay for him to play with her like this, and as if it was wrong to have such feelings. Maybe she could have coped, when he had admitted it long ago, then they had probably found a way to work this out.

 

“You know what? Yes, I wanted you to stop me,” she brushed away some of her tears. “But you know something else? Now I am glad you didn’t because I would have fallen for you again, would have let you got away because I care about you. It would have made you feel better and me more miserable.”

 

He inhaled deep and felt his lung hurt, “So you feel good now, because we both feel miserable?”

 

She closed her eyes, while giving him a sarcastic laugh, biting on her lips so the physical pain would ease some of the emotional pain. “You haven’t understood anything, have you?” she turned around, walking to the door thinking about something last to say.

 

“Jenna!” Peter followed her a few steps. And that gave her an inspiration. Not a good one, but a suitable one.

 

“You go away!” she rose one finger, the other hand on the door knob. “You go. a long. way. away.”

The door made a dull sound, when she left.

 

There was the possibility that Peter had to report the next day, that a door of a locker in his trailer was wrecked. He would tell them, that he had accidental ran against it. The pain in his hand would tell only him the true story.

  



	2. Chapter 2

Peter’s hand did hurt viciously. For a moment, after he had slammed his hand against the thin wooden door, he was afraid he had broken the hand. After slowly testing the waters by moving his fingers carefully and feeling the brutal pain with every move, he knew nothing was broken, just heavily bruised.

 _‘Right so,’_ he thought, what a stupid incautious reaction of him. Not only smashing the door, more his reaction toward Jenna.

He put his hand in cold water in the sink, and gave himself a few minutes to reflect what had happened.She was right, with all her anger directed at him. He could have said something month ago, but he was simply afraid and simply too arrogant in his believe he could deal with all this on his own. Not realizing that he couldn’t deal with it properly as long as he thought he could leave her out of it. When he saw, that she saw, and that she had developed feelings beyond friendship it was already too late for both of them. There was no way of curing the mess they had made.

When his hand had went numb, he decided to go home to his apartment he had in Cardiff. It was already late and dark, but he hated to sleep in his trailer. Also he needed fresh air, maybe a drink and he also craved a cigarette. He wouldn’t do the last, but for sure the first one.

He gave the smashed door a last glance, with an unpleasant expression, grabbed his coat and left. He took a cab that brought him away from the set, nearer to the city, where he asked the driver to stop. From there he would walk the rest, it was only a twenty minutes walk.

 

The air was fresh, but it wasn’t that cold. It did him good and he was able to get rid of some tensions in him. He knew; thoughts, worries and doubts would nag him all night and beyond that, so he tried to relax as long as he could.

While he strode through the night, the picture of Jenna appeared in his mind. Raging and crying. Telling him to go away. It wouldn’t be possible, they had to act tomorrow again, play the Doctor and the companion, playing friendship, affection, as nothing ever had happened. He was somehow lucky, that they had already filmed the sleigh scenes and the scenes in the bedroom, all the touchy scenes. Maybe it were these scenes that had made Jenna snap about the topic, had brought her to the edge of the bearable.

He couldn’t deny, that it wasn’t only fun for him to film the scenes. There was an ache inside his heart he always felt very strong when they filmed tender scenes, close and intimate ones. The Christmas Special was full of them, so the pain was almost constantly. Nobody saw of course, he had learned to hide it. He had learned to bury it deep under many layers of denial and of promises he had made long ago. Promises that were still very important to him and he would honour them - not only because he had to.

 

He never had any problems like this. Life had be good with him, had spared him the turmoil of twisted and complicated feelings. Then they had introduced him as Doctor Who and to Jenna and after a while he had known life seemed to remember that there was something, on a list of life lessons, he still needed to learn about.

The insight that this young woman twisted his feelings scared him. He was 55 years old and didn’t know how to deal with it. Looking back, knowing Jenna had to deal with the same, and his expectation that she could do that easily with her being way younger than him, made him want to smack the back of his head.

 

There were days he felt like being locked into a room with no windows and no door, air running out, left with only two choices. Breathing very slowly or stop breathing.

 

_‘Sometimes the only choices you have are bad ones.’_

 

Gosh, he craved a cigarette so much that he stopped by a little shop, and dwelled for a minute or so to go in or not.

 

 _‘Fuck’_ , he turned around and watched absently into the night, when somewhere across the street he could hear a voice. A male voice, sounding drunk and annoying and the words he could catch up sounded unpleasant. Shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat he stepped forward to see what was going on.

In the dim light of the street lamps he could see a male figure following a smaller one, he guessed a woman. He frowned at them, assumed they were a couple having a little argument, but then the guy ran in front of the woman and she walked against him.

 

“Com’ on, darlin! Don’t be so prim, it’s just a kiss!” with that he leaned forward and tried to kiss her, tried to grab for her and make her obey.

 

“Leave me alone!” she tried to push him away, but the man was taller and had seemed to expect her moves. They found each other in a struggle.

 

Peter reacted.

“Hey!” he ran across the street as fast as he could, and directly approached the drunk without any hesitation.

His hands reached out and grabbed the man by his collar.

“I said, hey!” with a wild force he separated the man from the woman and they both stumble against the next wall behind them. The man’s back slammed with a smacking sound against the hard surface. His eyes betrayed, that he was for some seconds without a clue what just had happened to him.

 

“What the fuck!” quickly he regained control again and started a struggle with Peter. “Get your hands off me!”

 

Peter never had got into a fight, except for a film, so he knew there was no safety net and that everything was possible. Maybe the guy was a lunatic and would pull out a knife. The man pushed him away and Peter let go off him, when the thought of him being armed came to him. In the corner of his eyes, he could see the woman stand aside, maybe in shock, she would be no help.

 

Still considering how to resolve the situation, he needed to duck, when the man sprinted forward and tried to punch him. If he would have been sober, he most definitely had punched him out, but so his moves were clumsy and Peter could react with a step to the side.

 

“Listen!” he threw up his arms and waggled with his hands as if some wild bees were around him, in hope it would distract the other.

 

Another swing and it hit him by his shoulder - it made him crank. His attacker was obviously not interested in a calm discussion, so he figured he needed to be a bit more forceful.

When the next punch came along, he grabbed his arms and pushed him back into the wall.

 

“Listen, twat!” he yelled and made him look at him, knowing he had switched into his best Malcolm Tucker expression. The only ace he had. He slammed him again against the wall to underline his rage, and his (bluffing) intentions.

 

“Who the fuck are you?  Are you her Daddy or what?” the man looked disgusted at him, as if it was Peter who had tried to lay hand on the girl and not him.

 

It confused him for a second and it also set loose the rage inside him. Raw anger crawled up his spine and he knew it was too late to back away. All the events of today now demanded its price. Jenna’s anger about him and his own anger and his own disappointment were now ready to find a proper recipient. He stepped away, and earned a surprised look, but Peter’s intention was not to let go of him. He only needed a bit of a run-up, then his fist found its way into the face of his opponent. It was not his hardest punch, because he had to hit him with the hand he had hurt earlier, but it was enough to bring the man to the ground into the dirt. Peter knew he should be shocked about what he just did, but his blood was seething and the adrenalin in his veins saved him from whining over his throbbing hand.

 

The man laid in front of him, in the dirt, and Peter bowed over him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket. Fierce in his eyes and with wrath he glared with bare teeth down at him.

 

"Scumbag,  you!" It was hard to restrain himself from punching the guy again. "If I ever see you again, then god help you!" With that he pushed him down to the ground and let go of him.

The man snapped for air. He now saw Peter as a real threatening, so he decided for an escape. He bopped up and ran away as fast as he could. Peter followed him with his eyes till he could be sure that he was gone, and would be no more danger to him or the woman.

Then he turned around to the woman the man had molested. She stood by the wall, near by a downpipe, her back half turned at him. There in the darkness and the shadows were she stood he could not see her clearly.

 

"Ma'am," he softly placed a hand on her shoulder. "He is gone. It's over."

 

He could hear her sniffle into a handkerchief. "It's okay, please. .. did he hurt you?" he had placed both his hands on her shoulder, when she turned to him. Red eyes, and and a scared impression on her face. Peter gaped.

 

Jenna.

Quickly he turned around once more, as if he still could reach the man. Knowing now it was her who he had harmed he felt the rage and wrath come back twice as strong and he was glad the man was gone for good, because he would have feared for his life if not.

 

He turned back at her, "Jenna!" his grip became tighter, his left hand reaching for her face, brushing away strands of hair, before settling down on her cheek. "Are you hurt? Did he do something to you? Tell me!"

 

Only now, Jenna fully understand that it was Peter who had saved her. Struggling with words and the lump in her throat, she did the only thing she could, she pressed against him, and buried her face in his chest and cried herself out.

 

For a second he didn’t know what to do, then he laid his arms around her, and settled his hands on her back and held her tight. “It’s okay, are you hurt?” he whispered.

 

“No, it’s ‘kay,” she managed to say and with that he patted her back and brought his coat around her as far as possible, fearing she might was cold and somehow he wanted to give her as much safety as he could.

 

Like this they stood for minutes. Jenna got her tears quickly under control, though the shock was still overwhelming. So she held onto him, breathing in his scent, leaning into him, feeling his body against her and the muscles of his back under her hands. Safe. That it was, she had forgotten over the last months, that she always had felt safe in his presence.

She felt him shiver, “Are you okay?” she asked without moving.

 

His hands caressed her head, “Yeah, I … I didn’t expected all this, and I didn’t expected that it was you.” His body shivered harder, trying to evolve the tensions. Jenna slowly let go of him, seeing him, with shaking hands.

 

They both looked down on his hands, and when their eyes met, he gave her a shy smile, “You must think something of me now, seeing me like this.”

 

Her hands rose and she took his softly into hers, “It's a natural reaction.” When she gently squeezed, he flinched. “What is it?”

 

There was no reason to lie, “My right hand. I hurt myself.”

 

She took the hand in both of hers and observed the visible injury. It was red and slightly blue and some skin was grazed. “You hit him pretty hard, didn’t you?” her fingers carefully trailed over his knuckles and he shivered again. This time because of the warmth of her fingertips.

 

“It’s… there is the possibility that I had a little encounter with one of my doors in my trailer,” embarrassed he looked down to the ground and retracted his hand from her, shoving it into the pocket of his coat, not because he not wanted to be touched by her anymore, but because he felt like an ten year old, who had overreacted.  “I guard you home.”

 

“You don’t have to,” she said, knowing it was more a reflex not a true answer. “I mean… yes, please do.”

 

He nodded with a thin and worried smile on his lips. Unsure if he should make small talk or keep quiet, he offered her his arm in silence.

 

“Thanks,” she slipped her arm around it and guided the way to her apartment.

 

They walked in silence, till they reached the house where she lived. Peter insisted to bring her upstairs, “After what has happened, I want to be sure, you are safe at home, okay?”

 

“Understandable,” she opened the door and was relieved he came upstairs with her. Not only because she felt safer with him by her side. Unsure how to make him stay longer, she fumbled way too long with her keys, till they dropped to the floor. “Damn.”

 

They both went down on their knees and almost banged their heads together, what made them smile a bit. “Sorry,” he uttered and so did she. He grabbed for the key, and she grabbed for his hand, quickly taking her hand away as if she had burned herself.

 

“Here,” he held out the keys on his flat hand, breathing heavily, not knowing how he would be able to leave her in a few seconds.

 

Jenna reached for the keys, and when her hand touched his palm, she left it there, “Thanks.”

 

Slowly his hand closed around hers. The sound of rushing blood echoed in his ears and he could have sworn his heartbeat was loud as a drum. _‘Can you hear it?’_ he almost asked her, instead he pulled her gently in.

 

Jenna didn’t resisted against it. She had gone lost in his greenish eyes, while he slowly lowered himself toward her face. Only inches separated them, when something in him got the better of him.

“I can’t do this,” he breathed heavily, letting go of her hand again, which dropped to her side like a stone. “I am so sorry, I am an idiot! I’m making a fool out of me, and mostly out of you,” his hands ruffled through his hair and he grabbed his neck, digging his fingernails into his flesh.

 

“Please, come inside,” she finally said, opening the door. “Only for a talk. I think we need one.”

 

He dwelled around on the spot, torn apart inside, “Alright.”

 

“Do you want something to drink?” she asked in a way, that he knew she didn’t meant water.

 

“I could use a drink, but I think it’s better to decline this offer,” he smirked and walked over to the window in her living room, leaning with his back against the sill.

 

Nodding, she gave him right. Starting to knead her hands again, she found herself again searching for words. “First of all; thank you.”

 

“What for?”

 

“Saving me,” the tough part of her wanted to tell him, she could have saved herself, and surely he knew that, but she decided it was not the moment to play the untouchable.

 

Peter shrugged, “Ah, better I took care of the scumbag. You probably would have beaten him into a hospital.”

 

It made her laugh, “Shall I take a look?” she doted toward his hand, sensing he wouldn’t let her. The fear of him to fall for her in the end was too big. They both knew that he was on the edge, and so was she. Every touch was now a potential danger for throwing all decent thoughts over board. So she added quickly, “At least let the Doctor take a look at it tomorrow.”

 

Peter couldn’t hide a smile.

 

“I mean, an actual Doctor, Peter,” her smile was wide and that made him happy.

 

The both giggle for a bit over the bad pun and then something inside of Peter shifted.

 

With a stern face he begun, “I should have stopped you.”

 

“Peter-” Jenna reached out to him, despite the meters between them.

 

“-I know!” he did the same with his hand. “Just let me... ,” he stepped away from the sill toward her, a cautious eye, that there was the couch between them. “I should have stopped you, long ago. I saw it! And I didn’t know what to do about it, and to be honest, I _still_ don’t know,” his hands jerked around in the air, becoming fists in one second only to be relaxed again in the next. “The only thing I am sure of, is, that I should have stopped you long ago, and that there are feelings,” he touched the part of his chest, were his heart beat underneath, “I … I have - for you.”

 

Jenna waited, waited for an _“I shouldn’t have them”_ and a _“I despise me”_ or _“It is better you leave for both of us”_ but none of it came, he kept quiet.

 

“I shouldn’t have pressed you,” her hand stroke the fabric of the sofa. “I am sorry.”

 

“I wish, you would have done that earlier, pressing me for it. I wish I had said something to you. We wouldn’t be in this mess then,” he watched her hand move over the cotton and imagined his hand under hers.

 

“There is no sense in what ifs and what could have been,” she made a fist and pushed it into the soft furniture.

 

That made him smile directly at her. In this moment he admired her, truly and without any intentions.

 

“Why do you smile?”

 

“Because of you. Because you will always be the smarter one of us, the better one,” he had made his way toward her, his hip leaning against the couch, his hand hovering over hers and when he was sure he was out of danger, he lowered it.

 

She watched her own fingers curl around his, “I told Steven two days ago, that I want to leave. The show,” she swallowed hard. “I lied.”

 

“I know,” it made her lock eyes with him. “I lied too. Steven told me. I guess he was a little bit in shock, so he called me after you had told him.”

 

They should have cried, instead they both laughed again. “So we both lied to each other. All this drama for nothing?”

 

“Not for nothing.” His thumb made little circles on the back of her hand, “so it seems we are not better than our alter egos.”

 

“Good casting,” she said with a smirk, and he approved.

 

She glanced at him, stepping closer and he reached for her cheek again, stroking some strands of hair behind her ear, trailing with his fingertips along the edge of it. He needed to close his eyes, to remember what was the right thing to do. When he would kiss her, he would not go home tonight.

“So this is it? The parting of the ways?” he asked, his fingers still entangled with her hair, craving the contact with her.

 

“There is no way back, no,” Steven had told her if she said no, there would be no chance of coming back for the next series.

 

She had wanted to say yes, desperately. But when she had opened her mouth to tell him, the word “ _no_ ” had came out. She knew why. She couldn’t stay. Not like this. Not with Peter as the Doctor. They would walk into the inevitable eventually.

 

“I… I need to go home, Jenna,” his hands landed on her shoulder, gently rubbing them. His hands trailed down her arms, till he had both her hands in his. He squeezed them gently and then let go of them.

 

“I know,” she rubbed her hands, missing the touch of him. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

 

“Of course you do,” and added, “Anytime you want, you know that? You are going to call me right, when you are gone, and we're going to have dinners, when you are in town and … and…-”

 

“-Yes!” she flung herself around him, so he would stop babbling. “We all do this. Of course we do.”

 

Would they really?

 

Peter found himself leaning into her embrace, lowering his face, so his nose got buried in her hair, taking in her scent one last time for the day. He would miss her beyond reasons and he didn’t know yet how to do a ninth season without her by his side.

“You’ll be fine,” she read his thoughts, smirked and let go off him. “You always be.”

 

Nodding he took his coat from the stool he had placed it and put it on, “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Then he went for the door, turned around one last time, to see her smile at him and he couldn’t help as to look at her like he did all these month. Desperately in chaos with his feelings and a bit lost. Quickly he glanced away before he decided to stay.

It was dim in the staircase and he slowly made his way down the stairs, when he heard a door go open.

 

“Peter!” Jenna ran up to him. Turning around on the second last step, she came to an halt directly in front of him. He needed to look up to her and her smile made him almost melt, she had caught him off guard.

 

“Yes?” the word came out husky and almost got stuck in his throat.

 

“Just…,” she grabbed for the lapels of his jacket, leaned forward and kissed him.

 

Not wild, not passionate, only soft and endearing. Hard enough to show him what he meant to her, also brief enough so their doubts would stay silent. It was a matter of a few seconds, then she lets go of him.

 

The kiss was a surprise - a pleasant one, but luckily a surprise, anything else would had led to more they both wanted to prevent them from.

Also, he had reacted without missing a beat into the kiss, by reaching for her hips, steadying her, while she brought herself onto tiptoes and had leaned forward. His eyes had fallen shut and he had leaned in, had sucked gently at her lower lip - everything a reaction in reflex.

It wasn’t so that he never had imagined this, it wasn’t so that he had never kissed before. Sometimes kissing was a bit like riding a bike, you don’t forget, you don’t think, you simply do it and sometimes it turns out to be amazing.

 

He only realized that it was an amazing kiss, when she had let go of him again, had smiled at him and had ran back into her apartment, and he was back down on the street.

 

He inhaled deeply, shaking his head to clear his mind from the fireworks inside, “Enough! That’s it. Enough.”

 

Enough.

Jenna left.

He got a new companion after a few episodes, and it worked out fine. But they could never reach up to Jenna. How could they? Sometimes he felt bad for them, because he wasn’t able to create a real bond. There was professionalism and friendship, but he stayed away, kept things to himself, he usually would have shared with Jenna. The impact of her on him was too big to brush it aside easily, and it made him cautious from there on, who he would let into his heart.

 

They were not blind. Sometimes people ask him why he looked so tired, if the show would eat him up or so? Then he smiled, his most genuine smile - one he could bare without making it a lie - before saying sarcastically; “What you want me to do? Regenerate?”

 

Thinking about it, he considered that this might was what he would do, because two seasons felt fine for him, and it felt enough for him. After all this years, he seemed to understand how the Doctor felt when losing a companion. Two season were a good outcome. Why do a third one? Why walk everyday into the Tardis, awaiting that Jenna would be there. It would be a daily disappointment.

Or maybe he should take this feeling to evolve the role - once more. Fans and critics loved him. He could do that, he could lock the pain away. Maybe he could do a third season.

 

Maybe.

Without her.

 

Because, _'you still have to choose.'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this one. It was a rather long one and I put a lot of effort into it (and soul) so if you liked it maybe you care for some Kudos or a comment, I really would appreciate it!  
> Thanks for the read!
> 
> For more Colepaldi you can follow me here or on tumblr (Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis) I publish on regular basis.

**Author's Note:**

> I really drained myself while writing this over a few days. I listened almost non stop to Birdy's Wings and it had an effect on this story I think. I'll about to write part two and hope it can be updated in a few days.


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